


The Lion and the Lake

by slipsthrufingers



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 'and has no idea what she's doing', 'she's just having fun!', Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, And fanart, F/M, Strange men lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for a system of government, another case of 'slips is writing by the seat of her pants', but it's not not what is happening here, very loosely based on. Le Morte d'Arthur, which is not precisely what is happening here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:13:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28394427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slipsthrufingers/pseuds/slipsthrufingers
Summary: The girl in the village had tried to talk her out of the journey. “You won’t find what you want up there,” she said earnestly, though Brienne had not listened.“If there is no lake, then I will simply appreciate the view from the peak then climb back down,” Brienne insisted, stubbornly.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 12
Kudos: 69
Collections: JB Festive Festival Exchange 2020





	The Lion and the Lake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Luthien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthien/gifts).



> This is loosely based on Le Morte d'Arthur because it is loosely based on [fanart](https://luthienebonyx.tumblr.com/post/613660773277908992/the-absolutely-wonderful-nire-the-mithridatist) that nire gifted to you, Luthien, for your birthday earlier this year. She graciously allowed me to write a fic based on it, since one of your prompts was 'wet men'. There are no wet men yet, but I promise there will be.
> 
> Thank you to Roccolinde for the beta and for the others who have cheered me on. And to everyone else who has participated so far in this exchange and made it the most chill exchange a girl could spontaneously ask for!

⚔️

The girl in the village had tried to talk her out of the journey. “You won’t find what you want up there,” she said earnestly, though Brienne had not listened.

“If there is no lake, then I will simply appreciate the view from the peak then climb back down,” Brienne insisted, stubbornly.

The worried look on the girl’s face had not dissuaded her. Brienne had faced down many a sceptical sneer and worse in her years on this earth and no one had successfully stopped her once she set her mind to a task; a little concern from a stranger affected her not at all.

She was determined. 

The girl had sighed, told her that the hike to the top of the mountain would likely take a week, and helped her pack enough provisions for the trip. Perhaps if the weather were better, and Brienne were better equipped to forge through the snowdrifts that blocked her path to the peak, she might have managed it. As it was, though, armed with nothing but her furs, a shovel and enough determination to fell a dragon, the journey took her almost ten days.

The effort was worth it though, to reach the top of the rise, skin chapped red and stinging, muscles aching, and see the untouched, pristine blue lake spread before her. 

From the base of the mountain it seemed impossible that it would be here, and for most of the journey she had wondered whether the tales of the lake were just that: tales. Stories told to pass the time at night, or to teach children important life lessons. Perhaps there would be not a thing of truth to the tale, and she would reach the top to find nothing but a barren peak and have to face the prospect of forging back down through the snow, back to the village, then back to her father, disappointed and empty handed. 

But she had had to try.

It was her last hope. She had to try.

And here it was. The lake. It was as though some god had carved away at the top of the mountain, removing the summit and whittling a hollow valley where the peak should be, leaving the lake surrounded by rugged, rocky walls. It reminded her of a cauldron from where she stood, and perhaps it was. 

But there was no doubt that this was a place of gods and magic, of that Brienne was certain. Because while she was surrounded by snow where she stood, at the highest point, further down there were trees. Not the spindly skeletal ones that peppered the mountain lower down, the ones that had lost all their leaves once winter had arrived, but lush green ones, like one saw in the height of spring. A verdant forest of trees surrounded the lake. 

_It must be warmer down there_ , she thought. The stories hadn’t mentioned that, but it was no matter. She was here now, and if the lake was here, as the stories said, then perhaps there was some truth to the rest of it. 

If the tales were true, this was where Oathkeeper was. A legendary sword, long lost, long sought, never found.

Until now.

⚔️

It took her the rest of the day to climb down into the cauldron. It was a precarious journey; she found the steep rocky path was loose and unstable, prone to shifting beneath her feet. More than once she slipped and fell and slid on her backside some way before she was able to regain purchase. By the time she reached the base of the cauldron she was battered and bruised and in desperate need of some rest.

She found a spot that would suit just inside the tree line. It was warmer here than it had been on the climb up the mountain, and she quickly shed her thick fur outer-layer else she would risk overheating. 

But the light was strange at the bottom of the canyon, darker than it should be, given the hour. It was because it was so deep here, and the walls of the mountain so high about her that it created an artificial sunset, but one that lasted hours longer than it ought.

Still, it was bright enough that she could scout a little way into the forest to find a place suitable to camp for the night. Brienne cleared space for a small fire, easily finding wood and kindling suitable enough that would burn throughout the evening and keep away any predators that might walk these forests.

The food she had brought would last her a week, with the rest for the return journey back down the mountain. But it would last longer if she could forage or hunt for more to supplement her diet while she continued her search, so she set a little trap down some ways outside of camp--the type that might catch something small like a rabbit or a squirrel that she could cook, which might extend her rations another few days.

Lastly, she strung up her little tent between two tall trees that reminded her of the pines in the Kingswood, if it wasn’t for their size. Twice the height of any tree she’d ever seen and more than four times as wide. 

But she wasn’t here to puzzle at the strangeness of the environment. The fact that the lake was here was proof enough she was in the right place, that there was at least some truth to the stories. And if the stories were true about the lake at the top of the mountain, then perhaps there was truth to the rest.

Somewhere in this cauldron was Oathkeeper. The legendary sword, lost to time. It was said that anyone who should bear it would be undefeated in battle, that it would bring them great glory and honour. A magical tale, and almost certainly exaggerated.

Brienne didn’t care. It was almost certainly a foolish thing she’d done, coming here, and very likely she would climb down the mountain empty handed like every other adventurer who’d come before her, seeking the sword.

She knew that.

But she still had to try.

⚔️

Brienne prepared a simple meal from the provisions in her pack: hard cheese, a sliver of dried fish and one of the mealy biscuits the serving girl at the tavern had sold her, promising it would last longer than bread on her journey. She set up a pot above the fire so that she could boil some water and brew some tea. It was one her father had preferred and prepared himself, drying the lemon rinds from fruit he picked from the tree behind their hut, and scraping and saving enough money so that he would be able to buy the special fragrant twigs from Essos, from the spice trader who came through town twice a year.

There wasn’t much of it left, the little tin she carried around at the bottom of her pack was the last of it and could no longer be called ‘half-full’ in good conscience. But if there was ever a time she needed to be reminded of home, it was this night.

She let the cup warm her hands, and she breathed the fruity aroma in deeply before every sip. As she did she contemplated her next move.

Tomorrow, she would rise with the sun, or earlier if she could, pack up her camp and start the hike to the lake. If the sword was truly real that was where it would be. Every version of the story agreed on that point, that the lake was essential. Some said it was near, some said it was buried at the very bottom. Some said there was a series of trials she would need to pass, some said it was guarded by a witch. Others seemed to think it was lost forever in the depths, and no man could ever hope of retrieving it.

Brienne didn’t know if any of it was true, but frankly it didn’t matter. She had come this far and she would go further still. There was nothing she wouldn’t do to claim the prize, that much she knew for certain.

Either she would walk back down the mountain with Oathkeeper in her hands, or she wouldn’t walk back down at all.

⚔️

Darkness arrived suddenly, and she retreated into the safety of her tent and her bedroll to get what rest she could. Sleep had been hard to come by in the months since she had left her father’s house, and it was harder again tonight. When she closed her eyes and wished for sleep to take her, all she could hear was the sounds of the forest outside the canvas flap. 

It took her a few hours of fruitlessly turning from one side to the other, readjusting the pack beneath her head several times in the hope she’d find the magically comfortable position that would knock her out properly, before she realised just why this place sounded so strange. Why the noise of every small animal scuttering across the forest floor disconcerted her so.

The trees made no noise. There was no wind up here to move them, to send their branches brushing gently against the branches of the neighbouring tree. Nothing to rustle the leaves. And that wasn’t all: the familiar twittering of bugs and crickets, ubiquitous with every night she had ever spent under the stars was gone completely. The only ambient noise of note was the sound of her own breathing and the beating of her heart.

Brienne tried to put the realisation from her mind by explaining it away: they were too far up for insects to survive, the mountain air too cold. 

It didn’t help much. She continued to toss and turn throughout the night, perhaps only managing an hour or two’s sleep before the murky dawning light began to rise in the east.

In the west, in the direction of the lake, a lion roared.

⚔️

With bleary eyes and aching muscles, she packed up her tent and bedroll before she checked the traps she’d set. It was disappointing to find them empty, but she couldn’t truly say she was surprised. She must have picked a bad spot to lay the trap, maybe even to camp. Hopefully there would be better spots closer to the water--animals never strayed far from a reliable water source--so she carefully disassembled the trap so she could set it again later.

Her trek towards the lake took all of the morning and most of the afternoon. She had not expected it would be so very far--the lake had looked so vast from the top of the cliff, surely it would not take long to arrive--and in fairness a little more than half a day’s trek probably was to be expected. It was just that she had wanted this for years, had worked towards it, had believed she would be the one to find Oathkeeper, even when everyone had told her it was impossible. The closer she was, the more she wanted it.

But her nerves, frayed as they were, were soothed some when she finally broke through the trees and gazed out across the lake.

The surface was as still as a looking glass, and it reflected the blue of the sky more generously than any mirror had reflected her face; standing here as she was between the two, the lake and the sky, it certainly felt like this was a place of magic. She had never felt more certain of anything in her life.

She would find Oathkeeper here.

She would find it, and climb back down the mountain with it strapped to her back.

Or she would die trying.

⚔️

As it had the day before, the light faded quickly, so she had little time to explore the way she wanted to. Desperately wanted to. But she wasn’t about to let her desperation override her sense just yet, and she retreated a little ways back into the forest to pitch her tent and light her fire for the night.

Again she set a trap on the outskirts of her camp, hoping the small game here would be more plentiful, or at least more stupid. And if that didn’t work, and she had the time, she would see if there was anything worth catching from the lake. There might be fish, as impossible as it seemed, this high up, and she had heard tell of blue lobsters and other fanciful crustaceans in other alpine waterways.

The supper she prepared was much the same as the previous night, but it filled her stomach a little less, and as a consequence, when she lay down in her bedroll to sleep she found it hard to come by. She should have been exhausted, having slept so poorly the night before. But when she closed her eyes and willed sleep to come, it did not. It felt like trying to capture a wisp of smoke in her fist, an exercise in frustration and impossibility.

Eventually, after tossing and turning for hours after what felt like every rock and stone on the continent of Westeros had done its very best to poke her through her bedroll, she gave up and crawled back out of her tent. If she was to be awake, then she would at least be warm by the fire.

The moon was high in the sky above, lighting her little campfire well despite the patchy canopy of trees casting errant shadows. It was these shadows, and perhaps some residual sleepiness clouding her eyes, that prevented her from noticing that she wasn’t alone.

Later she would spend hours recalling these few minutes in her mind. Had he been there, sitting on the other side of the fire the whole time, or had he moved so quietly that in her exhaustion she had not noticed.

All she could say for sure is that it wasn’t until she prodded the fire alive with a stray branch, sending a little shower of sparks into the night sky, higher than they should have rightly gone, if things were as they ought to be… it wasn’t ‘til then that she saw the man sitting on the other side of the fire.

⚔️


End file.
